E i g h t   J a n u a r y

Again the little crab tree on the avenue

but
writing what I see out my window might make
it seem that I am stuck in here
this apartment
timid
or an invalid or just invalid

yesterday a woman put on her coat in the
mild light of it and hugged me
no sad word said
went
I
have known how it is to be not wanted too

have known and wanted that woman for twenty-two
years but accumulated memories are the
horror of a home so I have not made or kept
one
have avoided being stuck in anywhere

she will come over in a week or two
or three
when she
leaves I may go out myself as though to
the appointment no one can avoid
when- and where-
ever that might be but not on this avenue

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